Pranksters Unleashed
by Nosgoroth
Summary: What better way to promote a joke shop that making public demonstrations where the most potential customers reside? When Fred and George thought so, they just didn’t think about the consequences. [Chapter 1 uploaded]
1. Default Chapter

**# Pranksters Unleashed #**  
A Harry Potter Fanfic by Nosgoroth

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Ask the insanely rich blonde writer in Great Britain.

**Summary:** What better way to promote a joke shop that making public demonstrations where the most potential customers reside? When Fred and George thought so, they just didn't think about the consequences.

**Author's Note:** Exams are over! Yay! Perhaps I'll finally be able to unload my Plot Bunnies on the net. This story I'm starting is yet another attempt at writing a long story and finishing it –I'm suuuch a lazy writer… U

Anyway, I'm posting the prologue so you can tell me if you like the idea. Just so you know, the story will be from a traditional "Harry's-Point-Of-View", occasionally switching to other characters, much like in my friend Ruskbyte's stories. (Which you should read. Really.)

Well, I'll leave you to it. Read and review!

Nosgoroth

Prologue  
Unconventional Methodology

[Thursday 17th of July, 1996]

"Advertisements in the Prophet are going to leave us flat broke at this rate," sighed George, eyeing with weariness the parchment in front of him, which showed that in a year's time such advertising were going to leave them flat broke indeed. A long time, perhaps, but if there was something the much-loved, much-hated Weasley twins didn't joke about, it was ironically their joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Precisely in their shop was where they were at that moment, albeit in a customer-restricted room.

"I know, I know," said Fred, who was standing behind his brother's chair, looking at the calculations over his shoulder. "Keeping it up is absolutely out of the question. How can they charge so much for just a few inches of space? It's ridiculous!"

Even though, as they had told their brother Ron at the beginning of summer, business was blooming for Fred and George Weasley, they couldn't just sit back and let the shop run by itself. At the moment, the twins were trying to find a (legal, plausible) way to make Weasley's Wizard Wheezes well known without losing the pile of Galleons that meant keeping two weekly half-page adverts in the middle pages of the Daily Prophet. They were positive there was a solution to their problem.

The solution just wasn't in the mood of showing its face anywhere near them.

"What about Quidditch?" said George suddenly, turning his face to look at his brother. "You know the scoreboard spouts adverts every once in a while. Perhaps we could…"

Fred was shaking his head. "You know what I think about those kind of adverts."

George smiled ruefully. "I do, and you are right, of course. Not flashy enough. It was just an idea," he shrugged. "But if we're going for a flashy thing, we'll have to use unconventional methods."

Fred nodded. "But what?"

"Dunno," mused George, thoughtful. "We could ask for help."

"Help?" Fred said in a disbelieving tone. "Help to come up with flashy things? We're the masters of all things flashy!"

"Perhaps," said George. "But we can go to the master of all things unconventional, can't we?"

Fred grinned slowly in realization. "Capital idea, brother mine."

[Later that day]

Professor Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore finished with a flourish the letter he was writing and stored it in the second drawer of his desk. He allowed himself a small smile. Something told him that unexpected things were about to happen in that very room during the coming minutes. "Almost time," he said out loud.

"So it is," confirmed Armando Dippet from his portrait. "I wonder what those two have up their sleeves."

"Don't remind me," reproached the painting of Phineas Nigellus uneasily. "I hope you know what you're doing, Albus. Those youngsters are the worst trouble-makers I've seen since the days of those four Gryffindors –remember them? The ones that used to prowl around the castle hexing everything that moved and most things that didn't?"

"How could I forget them?" Albus said honestly.

A moment later, the staircase outside the door rumbled, and all the portraits started and hastily settled themselves in a sleeping position, eyes cracked open the smallest fraction while they snored most convincingly. Albus straightened in his chair.

"Come in, Fred, George," he called good-naturedly, when the staircase stopped.

Sure enough, the Weasley twins entered the Headmaster's office, both of them wearing nervous smiles. They sat in the armchairs that Albus conjured up and looked at each other.

"Well," said Dumbledore, leaning forward, his hands clasped together. "What is this proposition you mentioned in your letter? I must say I am quite intrigued."

George took the lead. "Yes. Um. Well, the thing is… Present circumstances have made life at Hogwarts a fair bit gloomier than it should be, I'm sure you will agree with me."

"We feel this is inappropriate for the poor young teenagers residing at the castle," continued Fred.

Albus arched an eyebrow. "Most certainly." He could see, behind his guests, the portrait of Dilys Derwent stifling a snicker. Fred and George couldn't have made their meaning plainer. He decided, however, to let them finish, for details' sake. "Please continue."

Emboldened by the Headmaster's interest, Fred continued where he had left. "We have decided to take it upon ourselves to rectify this situation."

"Our plan is to randomly liven up the atmosphere of Hogwarts Castle-"

"-while we help prepare the students for the coming conflict against You-Know-Who's forces."

"Voldemort," corrected the Headmaster automatically.

Both twins blanched. "Where!?" They turned their heads to the door behind them in unison.

Albus rolled his metaphoric eyes. Really, so much fear of a name… He left the twins to calm for themselves while he digested the information. They intended to prepare the students for the war? That was unexpected. Behind the twins, Dippet looked as surprised as he felt, while Phineas simply scoffed, even though he appeared entertained by the redheads' antics. "And how do you plan on doing this?" Albus asked curiously.

"Our idea is to introduce a new subject this year," explained Fred.

Albus frowned. "Students' timetables are quite packed already."

George grinned. "That's the beauty of it. _Constant Vigilance_ won't need to be imparted."

"_Constant Vigilance_?" Albus asked in disbelief, putting one and one together and coming up with the twins.

Dilys Derwent, between giggles, intervened, voicing the Headmaster's suspicions. She had settled herself on a leathery armchair in a rather big canvas behind Albus' desk. "You mean you plan on pranking the hell out of each and every student outside class hours and mark them on how they cope?"

"Er…" said Fred and George simultaneously,

"Yeah," admitted George, nodding empathically.

"That's pretty much it," confirmed Fred.

Dilys exploded in hysterical laughter. It sounded outrageous, Albus thought. It even felt outrageous. Hell, it _was_ outrageous. But it was so outrageous that it actually was a good idea. Besides, that made it three Professor Weasleys at the same time. The thought of Severus' face when he learned of this was what finally made the aged wizard make his decision. Many parents and students might think him mad because of this… but didn't they already?

"If you will wait one minute or two, gentlemen…" said Albus, opening a drawer and pulling a blank piece of parchment, in which he started to write. The Weasley twins looked at each other nervously again. The scratching of the quill was driving them crazy with anticipation, if the way they kept fidgeting and looking at each other was any indication. Most of the portraits, giving up their feigned sleep, had gathered in the canvas behind the Headmaster, and were trying to discern his hasty writing.

Finally, Albus put down the quill and presented the twins with the following text:

17/07/96

I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (from now on the employer), hereby give Fred Weasley and George Weasley (from now on the employees) the status of Hogwarts Professor, provided they accept the following conditions:

- The employees will have the right to room and board within Hogwarts.

- The employees will receive a monthly payment of 650 Galleons. Any damage to school property, students, or other Professors will be deducted from this payment.

- The employees will be in charge of the subject called 'Constant Vigilance'. They will also accommodate any students wanting to discuss this subject.

- The employer will have the right to alter the contents of the subject should he feel it inappropriate.

- The employees will refrain from testing new products on the student body. They will also refrain from causing severe and/or irreparable damage (physical or psychological) on the student body.

- The employees will test and grade all students fairly.

The list went on with various unimportant points, ending with Albus' signature and space for the twins to sign. Which they did eagerly, without thinking twice, before Albus could warn them that it was a magical binding contract.

At the exact moment they signed, many Hogwarts students, miles away from the school, shivered or flinched without knowing why.

(To be continued? Depends on your opinion of this prologue.)


	2. The Phoenix Express

**# Pranksters Unleashed #**  
A Harry Potter Fanfic by Nosgoroth

Disclaimer: Not mine. Ask the insanely rich blonde writer in Great Britain.

Summary: What better way to promote a joke shop that making public demonstrations where the most potential customers reside? When Fred and George thought so, they just didn't think about the consequences.

Author's Note: Whoa! Lots of reviewers! Thank you for the support; I'm glad to know that I've been able to think up something original –I was worried it might have been done and re-done to the death by now.  
Unfortunately for you lot, there's no Fred or George in this episode, but worry not, they'll come back soon. As I said, this story is going to be an old-school Harry's-PoV thingy, so there you are. Have fun!  
Oh! Answers to the reviews are at the bottom of the page.

# Chapter One  
# The Phoenix Express

[July 23rd, 1996]****

It was just another day for the very bored boy in the small bedroom of number four, Privet Drive. The summer heat hadn't made its presence known yet, as it was relatively early –but not for Harry Potter. It was rather comfortable, sitting in his bed and reading (at the moment, a Quidditch book he had forgotten to give his friend Ron back). It didn't matter much that he had already read it three times and now could rival Ron's knowledge about the Cannons; he would stay in his room and thus out of his less than beloved blood family's way as long as they corresponded.

However.

His stay at Privet Drive was limited to reading the few books and magazines he had in his trunk, studying, gazing out the window, have walks and occasionally watch television. Needless to say, in the three weeks since he had returned to that sanctuary of boredom, he had run out of new reading material, gone sick with studying, and memorized the position of almost each and every flower in the front garden. He was so bored that he had even owled Dumbledore about it, three days ago.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

I'm bored stiff. I know it seems an odd thing to say but there is absolutely nothing to do around here but think. I wondered if you could send me a book about Occlumency or something like that. The thickest the better.

_Harry_

He had figured that he needed to feel like he was getting something done, and perhaps with that he actually would. He wondered, for the umpteenth time, how long it would be before Dumbledore replied. Harry sighed, and closed the Cannons book in his lap. His backside was getting sore of being in the same position for hours. Perhaps it would be a good idea to have breakfast and walk around a bit.

He walked down the stairs and smiled in amusement when he glimpsed the new grandfather clock that stood facing the front door. Not a week after he had arrived, Uncle Vernon had brought the clock from work. He had said that his boss was refurnishing his office and that he had given him the grandfather clock saying that he thought Vernon would appreciate the beauty of it. Uncle Vernon had placed it in front of the entrance so that everyone who came to visit would get a good look at it. When Harry mentioned that the clock looked like something you would find in a magical household, it was all Uncle Vernon could do not to throw it out of the house with Harry just behind it. In the end, he had kept it just in case his boss turned up.

Using the kitchen was not a problem while the Dursleys were asleep, but if Aunt Petunia were around she would constantly yell at him (from a distance) telling him to use every tool, ingredient, bowl or plate properly, even if he was handling them correctly. It annoyed him to no end.

Putting some ham between two pieces of toast (he was not in the mood for a Hogwarts-like breakfast) and munching away thoughtfully, he went through the front door and out of the house.

A soon as he finished the sandwich, he put his arms behind his back. There was a slight breeze that made his fringe move, tickling his forehead. As he passed by Mrs. Figg's house, he sighed, looking purposefully forward and not wanting to remember. He had been coming to Mrs. Figg's almost daily since he came back, because of what Moody and the others had told the Dursleys at King's Cross: that if they didn't hear form him in three days in a row, they'd send someone along. It wasn't bad, really, and he got updated with the latest news, but the old lady wasn't the most cheerful of companions.

It was nice, Harry thought, to get out of the Dursley's house at times and breathe some fresh air. He tilted his head upward and looked at the sky. His mind could almost forget past events as he watched a cloud partly blocking the early sun, making it glow with a golden light, or as he watched the impossibly white clouds slowly moving with the breeze, or the red and gold birds flying overhead carrying brownish packages, or as he stared at the moon, which still hadn't-

Wait a moment…

His head hastily turned one hundred and eighty degrees to look back, making him yelp in pain and put a hand to his neck. There was no mistaking it. How many red and gold birds had he seen that would carry packages? Actually, how many red and gold birds had he seen at all?

He turned the rest of his body and started to jog towards number four. Just as he was getting to the garden he heard a thunderous crash coming from just behind the door.

"Wha- WHAT IS THAT THING? MOMMY!"

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he ran to the door, yanking it open.

So much for the grandfather clock.

Apparently, Fawkes had dropped the package somewhere and was exploring the house. He was hopping down the stairs, peering at Dudley with what Harry guessed was an amused look. Dudley, on the other hand, was on the floor next to the remnants of the grandfather clock he had most certainly broken when he had stumbled back from shock. He was as white as his pyjamas, pointing wildly at the phoenix and recoiling as fast as his huge backside would allow him. He didn't appear to have noticed Harry was there at all.

Just as Fawkes hopped down from the final step, Aunt Petunia arrived from the kitchen, holding a big wooden spoon dripping with tomato sauce.

"What's the matter, Diddy? What- AAAAAHHHHH!"

The wooden spoon slipped from Petunia's hands and hit the top of Dudley's head, but he was so intent in watching Fawkes while opening and closing his mouth that he didn't even flinch.

"VERNON!" Petunia screeched. "VERNON! THE BOY'S DOING YOU-KNOW-WHAT!"

"MOMMY!" Dudley wailed, hiding his head under his arms and turning his back to the immobile bird. "TELL IT TO GET OFF OF ME!"

From the foot of the stairs, Fawkes looked at Harry as if saying "Can you believe this?", and motioned him to follow. The phoenix started to calmly hop up the stairs when the sound of a door crashing against a wall made Harry jump.

"DADDY! IT'S ATTACKING US!" Dudley yelled miserably, making Fawkes throw him an annoyed look, even though the only visible part of Harry's cousin was the back of his pyjamas.

"BOY!" Vernon thundered, as he appeared on top of the stairs, unshaven, in his brown pyjamas and more purple in the face than he had ever seen a person go. Harry was reminded of a charging bull. An ugly and purple charging bull. "YOU HAVE GONE WAY TOO FAR THIS TIME!"

What? He hadn't done anything at all! He started to say so, but Vernon had disappeared again. He reappeared a few seconds later with a shotgun, which he aimed at Fawkes.

"Wait, NO!" Harry yelled, but at the same time Fawkes spread his wings and disappeared in a flash of fire, avoiding Vernon's shot. The rogue bullet blew a vase on the foot of the stairs to smithereens.

Petunia screamed, Dudley whimpered and Vernon grunted in annoyance, turning this way and that, muttering, "Where did it go? Where did it go?"

Harry started as a red light flashed to the right of his head. A comfortable weight confirmed that Fawkes had reappeared on his right shoulder. The next thing he saw were Vernon's bulging eyes looking at him, and the length of the shotgun targeting his head. Before he could react, there was another flash of fire and he was somewhere else.

Harry blinked.

Dumbledore blinked.

Fawkes trilled softly in greeting.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said, trying to hide his surprise.

"Erm… hi?" Harry ventured. He looked around. It was Dumbledore's office, all right. Everything was tidy and neat and… not broken. He felt a surge of shame at what he had done the last time he had been here. He turned back to address the Headmaster, who was sitting at his desk. "Uh, what am I doing here?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and adjusted his half-moon spectacles. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he admitted. "But it is clear that you don't have that information. Perhaps you, Fawkes?"

He motioned at the phoenix, who trilled softly at Harry's ear. Once the shock had worn off, he understood. Fawkes had transported them somewhere else before Harry had had his scar removed by means of a bullet. He told as much to the Headmaster, and explained the events that preceded Vernon's attack of rage.

"I see," he said, when Harry had finished. "How peculiar of your family to be afraid of a well-meaning bird as Fawkes is. Well done, Fawkes."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, and Harry was not sure if he had meant "well done" as in "well done for taking Harry out of harm's way", or as in "well done for scaring those people half to death". Either way, he found that he agreed. "Yes, thank you, Fawkes," he said to the phoenix, who was still perched on his right shoulder. Dumbledore smiled at him, as if he had followed his train of thought.

"I don't suppose you had any chance of leafing through the book I sent you?" Dumbledore said.

"No," admitted Harry. "You actually sent me a book?"

"Of course," Dumbledore answered easily. "The thickest I could find, short of that one." He pointed to a really massive tome labelled _Mens Oculus – How to close your mind'_. It looked old and fragile. No wonder he hadn't owled that one to him; ten owls wouldn't have been able to carry it out of the room, and it might have broken during the long journey to Surrey or in Harry's care.

Harry suddenly became interested in the floor. "I'm sorry I wrote that, but I was really getting desperate." _When I asked for something thick I was actually hoping you'd send Ron_, Harry thought, dismissing the joke as soon as it occurred to him.

"Not to worry, Harry," said Dumbledore brightly, standing up form his armchair and walking past the desk. "Now that you're out of your aunt and uncle's house, I believe it's best for your state of mind if I don't send you back there. Unless you want to?"

Harry just looked at him.

"That's what I thought. Where do you want to be, then? You could stay here, and I would teach you Occlumency if you wish," An odd emotion flickered for a fraction of a second in the Headmaster's eyes. After a second, he chuckled. "But I dare say you will be seeing enough of the castle once classes start again, won't you?"

Harry smiled slightly. "I suppose." He guessed it wouldn't be bad to stay here instead of being locked up in Privet Drive. He would be getting normal food, and enough of it; he wouldn't have to do chores, and he would have all the books he would ever want. But who wanted books when he could explore the castle, or go the Room of Requirement and practice a few spells? Or get in the air and fly around and above the school without worrying about Snape docking House points or being late for classes? It would be freedom like he had seldom experienced, if he had at all.

"Well then. In that case, would you want to visit the Weasleys?"

He turned his head up to look at Dumbledore so quickly that his neck began to hurt again. "What?"

Dumbledore just smiled. The Weasleys? To hell with Hogwarts! He would definitely be seeing enough of it next term. "But…" he said reluctantly. "Will it be all right? They haven't invited me." Then he remembered how Mrs. Weasley had told him they'd get him out of his Aunt and Uncle's as soon as possible, and he added, "Yet."

Dumbledore chuckled again and looked up, as if reminiscing. Then he noticed his fingers moving up and down. He was counting. "Harry, I have received a total of nine owls, combining the persuasive talents and perseverance of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger, asking me to let you out of Privet Drive. The four of them, along with Fred, George and Ginny Weasley turned up in this office five days ago demanding in no uncertain terms that I sent you a portkey to the Burrow. I don't think you'll be any less than welcome."

Harry was touched. He was already itching with anticipation. But… "But, Professor-"

"You can call me Albus, Harry."

"Er." Call him Albus? He didn't think he could do that. "Prof- I mean," Harry stammered. How on earth was he supposed to call him that? "But… all my things are back…" he pointed behind him with his thumb. "…back there."

By divine intervention Dumbledore understood him. "Then," he said. "Shall we go get them?" He gestured at Fawkes.

"Well, yes, but how?"

"The same way you got here," he told him. "It's an interesting ability of Fawkes', don't you think? It's called Fire Apparition, although I think of it as something similar to a Portkey. You see, you just have to be touching him," Dumbledore stroked Fawkes as he said so. "And you'll be taken along when he Disapparates." He looked at the phoenix. "Number four, Privet Drive, please, Fawkes." And just as Fawkes nodded, fire enveloped Headmaster, student and phoenix, leaving them in front of their destination when the flames dissipated a second later.

"We're back," muttered Harry listlessly.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and ringed the bell.

It was Aunt Petunia who opened, took a look at the Headmaster and slammed the door shut. "VERNON! THE FREAKS HAVE COME FOR US! CALL THE POLICE!"

"HOW MANY ARE THERE?" Uncle Vernon yelled unsteadily, from upstairs, it seemed.

"I DON'T KNOW! AT LEAST FIVE!"

"Talk about blowing out of proportion," muttered Harry.

"_Alohomora_," said Dumbledore, pointing his wand at the keyhole. The door opened a fraction immediately, but almost as immediately it closed again. Apparently Petunia had all her weight thrown against the door.

"THEY'RE FORCING THEIR WAY THROUGH, VERNON!"

"Petunia, let us in," said Dumbledore, a hint of annoyance in his normally calm voice. "We only want Harry's belongings."

"VERNON, HAVE YOU CALLED THE POLICE YET?"

Harry sighed. They were getting nowhere this way. "Aunt Petunia, let us in or we'll start doing you-know-what!"

From the other side of the door there was a scream and a thud. Petunia was probably on the floor with her hands on her mouth. Dumbledore took his chance and said again, "_Alohomora_."

The door opened a fraction again, and Dumbledore was quick to push it open completely. Petunia whimpered as she tried to push herself upright and failed miserably. She was as white as her immaculate sheets. Harry found it peculiar that most wizards would be scared of You-Know-Who, while her aunt was scared of you-know-what.

"Don't- don't hurt me- or my son- he's too young- he's a good boy- please!"

Somewhere deep within him Harry felt sorry for her. She was genuinely scared for her life, and still she begged for her son's –even though Dudley was probably not at home.

Dumbledore held out a hand to help her up. "We don't want to hurt anyone, Petunia. We just want Harry's belongings." It was a nice gesture, Harry thought. However, he knew better than to expect her aunt to accept the proffered hand. She would sooner be a whole year without cleaning the house than accept the help of a wizard, and that was saying a lot.

Petunia stood up on terror, faster than she would ever have if she had taken Dumbledore's hand. "VERNOOOOOOOOON!"

She was running up the stairs, screaming like a banshee on fire. Then she tripped, and she ended sprawled on the landing upstairs. Fawkes took flight from Harry's shoulder and landed on top of her, making her scream. There was a flash of fire and both Petunia and Fawkes were gone. Another flash of fire and Fawkes was on Dumbledore shoulder.

"I wonder where she ended up," mused Dumbledore as he walked up the stairs. Harry followed him, in awe at the presence of mind of the phoenix.

"It's this room, Professor," said Harry, pointing to a door with many keyholes and chains, none of which were in use anymore. Dumbledore opened it and stepped inside, making no comment about the room. With a little wand waving, everything was neatly packed within seconds, posters included.

Suddenly, the door closed with a bang, and there was the sound of metal against metal. "HAH! GOT YOU!"

Vernon had locked them in, and he was beside himself with glee. "The police are coming!" He yelled from behind the door. "You and that old freak will finally get your comeuppance, boy!" Then Vernon burst out laughing like a maniac and tromped down the stairs, announcing loudly, "You'll never get out of there! When the policemen arrive you'll get what you deserve!"

Harry was not the least bit worried, nor very surprised at this turn of events. Perhaps he would have been in trouble had he been by himself, but with Dumbledore there, his mind was at ease, despite Vernon's blood-chilling laughter.

"Fawkes, if you will," said Dumbledore, clearly calm, and looking a bit amused perhaps. Fawkes took flight again and Disapparated.

"Stand back, Harry," warned the Headmaster, retreating against the bed. Harry imitated him, wondering where Fawkes had gone. A few seconds later, the phoenix reappeared with Petunia, and landed in Harry's shoulder.

"Well, Petunia," said Dumbledore conversationally to Harry's aunt, who was looking as if she might be sick there and then. "We should be going. I will pay you a visit one of these days." And with that, he grabbed Harry's trunk with one hand and Fawkes' tail with the others. "My office, please, Fawkes."

And they were gone.

-----

Vernon was sure this was the best day of his life, he thought as he stood just outside the front garden, willing the police to come faster. Not the day of his wedding, not the day he obtained his driving license, nor the day Dudley was born. This day was a day to write down in the history books. The Potter boy had been caught in the act, and by none else than Vernon Dursley, the kind soul that had given food and shelter to said brat, only to be paid back with threats, insults and mockery. His family had also suffered from him: his son had been transformed into a pig (a pig! How very inadequate for such a charming boy), his aunt had begun floating in the air one day and had never spoken to them since (even though she didn't remember why), and his wife had been forced to remember her dreadful sister every second of every day.

But it was all over. He had caught those two _freaks_ breaking and entering, and had outwitted them, locking them somewhere they couldn't just break out of. There were four locks and three chains on the door, and the whole room was soundproof. The window had bars. There simply was no way out. It was such rotten luck that his son hadn't been there to watch his father's glorious victory.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw two patrol cars coming down the street and halting in front of him.

"Quick, quick, I managed to trap them in a room!"

The four policemen were out of the car in half a second. They followed Vernon into the house.

"Are they armed?" Asked one of the policemen.

Vernon felt very important, leading the policemen to his nephew. "Yes."

"Open it," said other policeman to Vernon once they were just outside the room, guns pointing at the door.

He licked his lips and proceeded, almost wetting himself from excitement. What he didn't know was that it was not his nephew behind the door, but his wife, who had been sick a moment before. He didn't know that the police would question him for hours on end about how had it been possible that the criminals had left that room and locked his wife there. He didn't know that Petunia would be so in shock that she wouldn't utter a word until ten days after, or that the police wouldn't quite believe his story and lock him up in jail, under charges of mistreating his wife.

He just eagerly opened the door.

(To be continued)

**Review!** Your opinion helps more than you think!

-----

A big **THANK YOU** to everyone who reviewed. Writing is much less problematic when you know there are people like you on the other side of the screen.  
Apart from a few general guidelines, I have no idea what I'm going to write next, so I'd appreciate it if you inserted an idea or two in your reviews; I'll try to fit them in the story ;)

To **white eLaNoR**,** Amanda**,** Lady Kel** and** Nimair Black**: Thank you! Yep, I'll keep writing, all right. Sounds like I'm on the right track after all.

To **CountessMel**: I seem to have a knack for doing original things, it seems. Reviews for my other (short) story said the same thing.   
I am astounded that the prologue was enough to make me go to anyone's alerts.

To **mary-v**: Heh heh. Third Weasley, you say? Ahh, wouldn't you like to know? In fact, I intend to mess up half the subjects and add a few ones too, so this third Weasley is going to be the least of your (or Harry's) worries, I assure you.

To **misting morning**: :Author bows: I shall endeavour to do my best. Seriously, I do what I can, and judging by the reviews it seems to be good enough for now ;)

To **stevethecool**: Alas, me equalling Ruskbyte? :Author smiles evilly: One can but hope. You know, I might bring the Evil Cliffies to this story…  
Glad to know you liked the portraits. You'll be seeing more of them.

To **JamieBell**: Original idea, you say? Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? Now you won't know what to expect! (Insert evil cackle here)


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